


Takes One to Know One

by sobachka



Series: Zoyalai Works [10]
Category: Nikolai Series - Leigh Bardugo, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: F/M, happy ending tho !!, highly recommend listening to cowboy like me before/during it rly fits the vibe, its mostly zoyalai tho, vaguely set in russia late 1890s, yes malina happens i gave in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:06:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28745916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sobachka/pseuds/sobachka
Summary: Zoya and Nikola meet at a ball where they both had attempted to con the hosts. What happens when their fates entwine and they wind up in a situation together?or zoyalai gold diggers based on Cowboy Like Me by taylor swift
Relationships: Mal Oretsev/Alina Starkov, Nikolai Lantsov/Zoya Nazyalensky
Series: Zoyalai Works [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1789732
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	Takes One to Know One

> _You're a cowboy like me_
> 
> _Perched in the dark_  
>  _Telling all the rich folks anything they wanna hear_  
>  _Like it could be love_  
>  _I could be the way forward_  
>  _Only if they pay for it_  
>  _You're a bandit like me_  
>  _Eyes full of stars_  
>  _Hustling for the good life_  
>  _Never thought I'd meet you here_  
>  _It could be love_  
>  _We could be the way forward_  
>  _And I know I'll pay for it_

Nikolai Lantsov did not intend to steal a car. 

It was an accident, truly. He wasn't at all aware that it belonged to anyone- much less that it contained someone else within it. 

She woke up about fifteen minutes into Nikolai's escape, and nearly caused him to swerve into a tree in horror. Pale as a ghost and practically drowning in pink tulle, the girl lifted her head and scowled at Nikolai in the rearview mirror. 

"Where exactly are you taking me?" She asked, surprisingly calm despite what might have looked like a kidnapping taking place right then.

Once he'd gotten over the initial shock, checked for any gray hairs that might have appeared from the shock, and looked behind him three times to ensure she was  _ real, _ Nikolai pulled over, parking on the side of the dirt road. 

He poked his head out from behind the driver's seat. She was hidden just behind his seat, in a perfect blind spot created by the tinted windows and the headrest someone immensely tall had adjusted for their comfort. 

"You're here," he said, stating the obvious. 

"No, I was here first, which makes  _ you _ a surprise," She raised a brow at him. 

Nikolai blinked, struggling to come up with an excuse. He had the strangest feeling that he recognized the girl- but how could that be? He'd been wandering outside some Lord's house and the car had been abandoned, key left inside. 

It was practically begging to be stolen. 

"Right," he managed, then gave her a charming smile, "glad you've finally awoken, miss! I was asked to drive you around to ensure you rested well." 

She looked at him quizzically, "by taking me to the suburbs?" 

"Fresh air?" He offered. 

"Who tasked you with this?" her eyes were narrowed now, and Nikolai felt for the first time as though there might be consequences to his actions. An unusual feat. 

"Good question," Nikolai said seriously, then, raising an accusing brow of his own to match hers, he added, "but here's a better one: why exactly are you hiding out in a car?" 

The girl looked away, her cheeks pinking.  _ Gotcha _ . 

"I'm not  _ hiding _ ," she said, chewing her lower lip, "just…" 

"Resting?" He offered. 

"Yes!" She looked relieved for the excuse, which piqued Nikolai's curiosity even further. "And you can tell Mal next time that I don't need babysitting." 

"Don't bother denying it," she added when he frowned, "I know he put you up to this." 

_ Mal? _

He smiled, going for sheepish, "ah, you got me there. Now how about we get you home, Princess?" 

She rolled her eyes at the nickname but slumped back in her seat anyway. 

_ Home, _ Nikolai considered,  _ meaning a daughter of that Lord? _

Which meant she had money. Lots of it. Nikolai pondered this as he turned the car that was once stolen but was now only borrowed back to what a ghost-like girl in tulle called home. 

* * *

Zoya loved parties.

There was something about the noise and the champagne and the dancing that took her up to a status she was certain was meant for her. Or perhaps she just likes how different it was from her own world, which was limited to whatever house was empty for the night and within range of the city's graveyard. 

Here, she knew, she could lose herself for a few hours. More if she let one of these men or women take her home and show her an all-expenses-paid good time. 

As though sensing her ill intentions, the guard at the grand doorway put an arm out to stop her from entering. 

Zoya looked down at his arm, raising both brows before turning a withering glare on the man himself, who turned red beneath her gaze. 

"Sorry ma'am- but you aren't on the invite list." He said, truly looking apologetic. Zoya considered him. Of course she wasn't on the invite list, but she had not expected him to actually look up the name she'd given him. 

She looked the part of a lady, with the dress she found in the drawers of her last conquest's wife, and jewelry courtesy of her late fiance- who died at eighty three and left her nothing but a few diamonds and his slimey touch to remember him by. 

"Pardon me?" She asked, her words laced with steel. 

"It's only that your name, miss-" 

"Are you really going to deny entry to  _ Lady Zoya of the House of Juris'? _ " Her voice rose with every word. The man shrank back. "Do you  _ know _ who my father is?" 

_ Dead _ , her mind filled in. But the guard didn't know that. And he seemed close to shriveling up from her tone. 

"Ah, yes, here we are," a second, well-dressed guard or waiter or  _ someone _ , appeared. He was taller, handsome, and he gave Zoya a smile she recognized as forced. "Right there on the list. I apologize for my friend, he must have missed it." 

The glare he sent towards the first guard made Zoya hide a smile. 

"Do ensure this doesn't happen again," she snapped, fluffing her hair over her shoulder, "I'd hate for you both to lose your jobs on the same night." 

Then she strolled past them, a smile growing with the distance. It was hard to deny that she was very good at what she did. 

Zoya scanned the room, searching for the right mark. Her eye caught on a younger gentleman dressed in finery, brown hair neatly parted, smiling at an older man he was deep in conversation with. 

Fairly handsome. Zoya zoned in on him. 

She made her way smoothly through the crowd of mingling rich folk, plenty of different perfumes filling her nose as she did.  _ Saints _ , she thought, wrinkling her nose,  _ all this money and no good taste? _

He was only a few steps away from her, laughing now. Zoya spun on her heel, snatching a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. She pinched her cheeks to get some extra color in them. Then she walked backwards one, two steps and- 

Her heeled shoe found the hem of her gown and she was sent falling backwards, a practiced cry dropping from her lips as her glass of champagne emptied itself onto the man that pretty-boy had been speaking to. 

Arms came around her waist instantly, righting her. Zoya steadied herself against her savior, looking up at him with wide eyes as she clung to him. 

"I'm so sorry!" She cried, hand to her mouth as her eyes found the second man- the only distraction she needed to be rid of- who now had champagne splashed over his expensive jacket. He scowled at her. 

"Oh, I'm such a klutz! I apologize profusely sir! I'm so-" she let her words trail into a sob, swayed a bit, fingers tightening on her mark's arms as she met his gaze with tear-filled eyes. 

"No matter," the old man waved her off, "I'll just have this washed, yes? Malyen, we'll speak again soon. Watch over her, won't you?" 

Zoya let her head dip in shame, and it only took a moment for her mark- Malyen?- to murmer soft words to console her, one hand coming to tilt her face up to his, brushing aside tears that never fell to begin with. 

"Now, now, it's alright," he said softly. Up close, she realized his eyes were a pale blue. His name clicked into place immediately.  _ Malyen,  _ as in  _ Malyen Oretsev _ . Adoptive son of the Duke whose party she'd crashed. This was infinitely better than 'alright'. 

"I didn't mean to…" she lied. Malyen's hand was still gripping her waist, Zoya noted. This would likely be her easiest mark yet. 

"No worries at all, my uncle was bound to spill something by the end of the night, at least this came from a pretty girl," 

Oh, this one was  _ easy. _

Zoya looked away, letting a small smile creep over her lips. 

"Would you like to dance? It helps me take my mind off things, and it looks like you could use that," he offered when Zoya said nothing still. 

She didn't have to fake the pleased smile that spread over her lips when Zoya took his hand. 

"I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

Her name was Alina. 

Ward of Lord Keramsov, owner of the mansion Nikolai had admired and the car he’d tried to steal. 

They were seated on the hood of that same car now, which Nikolai had had no other opportunities to steal, unfortunately. 

Still, he was making quick progress with this girl, who seemed to find everything about her life dull. This amazed Nikolai.  _ What could possibly be dull about a life of luxury? _

She scrunched her face up when he asked, and paused, considering. Her face was like an open book and he could practically see every thought crossing it. Slight cock of the head, bunched lips, furrowed brows.

“It isn’t dull- don’t make me sound ungrateful, Nikolai,” she narrowed her eyes at him before continuing, “only that I feel like there’s  _ more  _ to the world, you know? More out there. More than pompous balls and suitors who only came for my money.”

Nikolai glanced away at that. So he wasn’t the first, then. But she was clever, and something about her stopped him from leaving once the opportunity closed. 

“The world outside is overrated,” he assured her, “any wise person would live out their days in a mansion and drown themselves in money and drink.”

She gave him an odd look at that, but said nothing. 

“Is that why you were hiding, then?” Nikolai asked, leaning back on his hands to watch her carefully, “to get away from that world?”

Alina hesitated before shrugging, “maybe.”

“I knew a man who burned his fortune before killing himself, as a way of escape,” Nikolai said thoughtfully. He didn’t mention exactly how he knew that man nor why the burned fortune made for such a bitter memory. 

“That’s awful!” Alina said, gaping at him.

“I don’t mean it as a solution- only that you aren’t the first to feel that way. Not in my experience, at least.” 

Perhaps he should have embellished the story a bit, but Alina only pursed her lips and nodded. He wondered what it must be like, to care so deeply for every person that even a mention of pain could pierce your heart.

_ Must be exhausting, _ he decided.

They stayed there for a few hours before people slowly began pouring out of the grand doorway and Nikolai thought perhaps if he was found on top of a car he tried to steal with a duke’s daughter, things may not go well for him.

He was back a week later, and once again Alina had slipped away from the festivities, this time dressed in purple. He wondered if she was the one who chose the gowns- she never looked particularly comfortable in them.

It was almost amusing. Nikolai thought he’d stick around for a little longer. And so, whenever Lord Keramsov of House Keramzin decided to throw a ball or attend one or spend a night lost in wine and company, Nikolai would be there, keeping Alina company. Or maybe she was keeping  _ him  _ company, he wasn’t certain anymore.

He had not intended for it to last three months, this secret friendship between the two, but then some things could not be planned, and some could not be prevented. 

* * *

Zoya Nazyalensky was running out of dresses to wear.

After her first run-in with Malyen, she’d gotten a real invite for the following week, and then the next one, and the next. It was a true shame that first guard wasn’t around- Zoya would have loved to see his reaction. 

She'd considered selling her sapphire earrings for a new dress, but she'd made progress with Malyen. Now if she was around he spoke to no one else, he smiled when he saw her coming, and of course, he danced with her more than any other girl. 

She practically had him already. 

And with just a bit of patience, she might be able to reap the rewards. There was already talk of him choosing a bride. 

"Zoya!" 

_ Speak of the devil.  _

"Malyen, there you are!" She gave him a practiced smile, and he took her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

It was the oddest thing, no matter how close she got with Malyen, no matter how many times she'd slipped a little too near, or his hand dipped a little too low, he never kissed her. 

Which meant Zoya must be doing something wrong. Because most men she met would have kissed her the night she fell tragically into their arms. 

He was getting on her nerves. 

She fought to keep a smile on her face as he pulled her aside, away from the crowds. Zoya frowned. Was he better dressed than usual? Was he smiling bigger?

Something was off.

A passing man in a tux put a hand on Malyen’s shoulder and muttered a ‘congratulations’, before disappearing again. 

“What was that about?” she asked, watching the man walk away. Malyen gave her a puzzled look.

“It’s good luck to congratulate the groom as far as I’m aware,” he said with a smile.

Zoya stilled. The  _ what? _

“Then why is he congratulating  _ you? _ ”

He gave her another confused look, brows drawing together, “you read the invitation, no?”

She had not. They all said the same nonsense, always an occasion, something to celebrate when you were this wealthy. 

Zoya felt dread wash over her, and when Malyen glanced behind her and beamed, it only grew.

“There she is!” he announced happily. Zoya spun around to find a girl, her age, possibly younger, dressed in a gold gown that shimmered as she walked, her eyes alight with excitement.

“Zoya, this is my fiance, Alina- I’m so glad you can finally meet her!”

_ Oh, for Saints’ sake _ , Zoya thought, realization dawning. This was an engagement party.

* * *

Nikolai had never actually seen the inside of Lord Keramsov’s mansion. The hall was enormous, with low hanging chandeliers hanging from above and framed portraits of what must have been the Duke’s ancestors lining the hall. Finely dressed men and women danced and mingled with the soft sound of music filtering in from afar.

When he’d last spoken to Alina, she’d been practically giddy with excitement as she offered him an invitation lined with lace. A ball was being thrown to celebrate the engagement of one Alina Starkov and a Malyen Oretsev.

_ Mal _ , Nikolai realized. The friend from almost every story Alina had told him. He had felt a stab of disappointment at first, but it filtered into happiness not long after. He couldn’t help it, he’d grown fond of Alina, more so than any wealthy girl he’d met. 

Better yet, they were going to travel. A gift from the Duke, he was sending the pair on a ship that would take them as far as they pleased, on a trip to  _ everywhere _ , as Alina put it.

Only issue was that now, Nikolai was alone. 

Strange, he’d thought he was the one giving time up for Alina, but maybe it was the other way around. Maybe he’d needed someone too.

Nikolai carried these bitter thoughts with him as he stepped outside, needing some fresh air to clear his mind before Alina found him again. The night air was cool against his skin, and he undid the first two buttons of his shirt, suddenly wondering why he even came. The ball was growing more depressing by the hour.

“ _ Let go of me. _ ” someone ground out.

Nikolai frowned, locating the source in a moment. A girl in a navy blue gown stood at the top of the stairs, her statement directed at the guard who’d accepted Nikolai's invitation. The man had hold of her elbow, stopping her exit. Nikolai frowned.

“Oh no, you see, I went through some records- it took me some time, I’ll admit- but guess what I found?” the girl struggled further against his grip, but Nikolai didn’t miss the fear that took hold of her face. “There is no  _ House of Juris, _ but I  _ did  _ find a Zoya. Zoya Nazyalensky, wanted for theft, swindling, multiple accounts of fraud, oh-” he let out a harsh laugh, “-the list goes on.”

_ Saints.  _

He wondered what the man might find under  _ Nikolai Lantsov _ , if he ever bothered to look.

Maybe that’s what prompted Nikolai to step forward, and put a hand on the guard’s, forcing it away. 

“Ah, there you are!” he said, voice cool. The guard blinked at him. It seemed he had more to say, but Nikolai wasn’t certain how long he’d last- the glint of metal as the girl reached for something at her waist told him it wasn’t very long. 

“Pardon me, sir but I-” 

Nikolai didn’t let him finish.

“We should be on our way, sweetheart,” he said, entirely ignoring the withering glare she now turned on him, “it looks like it might rain.”

“You can’t just-” the guard began, but one cold look from Nikolai silenced him.

“As a matter of fact, I can,” Nikolai said, “and I suggest you let my wife and I leave or I’ll have a word with the Duke. Don’t test my limits.”

With that, he slid an arm over the shoulders of a girl who’s name he didn’t know and steered them away. Neither of them spoke until they were far from the guard’s eyes.

And  _ then  _ the girl pulled out her dagger.

* * *

> _And the tennis court was covered up_  
>  _With some tent-like thing_  
>  _And you asked me to dance_  
>  _But I said, "Dancing is a dangerous game"_  
>  _Oh, I thought_  
>  _This is gonna be one of those things_  
>  _Now I know_  
>  _I'm never gonna love again_
> 
> _I've got some tricks up my sleeve_  
>  _Takes one to know one_  
>  _You're a cowboy like me_

Zoya was  _ not _ in the mood to deal with this newcomer. Who was he, anyway? She hadn't seen him at any of the previous balls- but then she hadn't seen Alina either. 

Perhaps she had been distracted with her mark. 

_ A mark that just got engaged.  _

Three months wasted, that was all she had. 

That, and the blade pressed against the blond's throat. 

He seemed unphased, raising an unamused brow at her. "Really?" 

Zoya snarled at him, "who the hell are you?" 

"You don't remember the wedding?" He had the nerve to say. 

Zoya let the blade's edge press into his Adam's apple, eliciting a hiss. 

"Saints, do you really intend to kill me after I just saved you from arrest?" 

"You didn't save me." She countered.

"No? And you think this method might have worked better with the guard?" 

Zoya considered him for a moment before easing her grip on the dagger, letting it hover instead, still threatening. 

"I have no intentions of turning you in if that's what you're afraid of," he said, unnervingly calm. 

"You never answered my question." 

"Nikolai Lantsov. Certified thief, swindler,  _ and _ fraud!" He announced proudly. 

Zoya narrowed her eyes at him, "are you mocking me?" 

"Not at all." 

"Then what was that nonsense about  _ testing your limits _ with the guard?" 

"I can run  _ really  _ fast," 

He was grinning. 

_ Nikolai Lantsov _ . She considered him a moment longer. He didn't look particularly wealthy- his suit certainly wasn't new, and slightly too tight on the shoulders. Stolen? Possibly. His hair was almost perfectly brushed, save for one gold lock that fell over his hazel eyes. It was unnerving and Zoya had the strangest urge to push it away. 

She shoved that thought to the farthest depths of her mind.

"What do you want?" She eyed him warily.

"A ship, a life without running, my friend back, my family gone. At this moment? That dagger away from my throat tops them all." 

_ A life without running _ , Zoya thought. It seemed her and the stranger had similar goals in mind.

Yet the only method of achieving that dream had turned away with a thin brunette on his arm. 

Zoya huffed, pulling the dagger back and dropping her hand to her side. Why she chose to spare his life, she didn’t know. Maybe she owed him. Or maybe it was that cursed voice in the back of her head that always made her pull back in the end, never following through with the worst of her threats. 

Liliyana’s voice. 

She turned away before he could notice the tears gathering in her eyes. She needed to get away, as far as possible from this place. Liliyana’s death still cut Zoya sharper than any dagger she’d wielded. _ I should have saved you. I should have been there. _

If nothing else, she should have avenged her aunt. But the driver had disappeared as quickly as he’d hit them, nothing but the empty road to keep company the two bodies that lay there, hands still linked together.

She shut her eyes tight, hugging herself, walking faster, practically stomping now. Memories were the cruelest curse.

A drop fell from the skies, landing on her cheek and lining the path her tears might have taken. Zoya paused, frowning. She looked up, and more droplets splattered across her face and bare arms. 

_ Oh, for the love of- _

“I did say it was going to rain.”

Zoya whipped around, grip on the dagger tightening automatically. The blond-  _ Nikolai Lantsov _ \- was still there. His hands were stuffed in the pockets of his trousers, head tilted to the sky, welcoming the rainfall. 

“Are you following me?” Zoya asked, incredulous. 

His eyes found her again and he shrugged, “I don’t want to be alone, either.”

This took her aback. She wondered how she must look with her fancy ball gown and tear-filled eyes, only moments away from a dream and less away from disaster. 

She glowered at him, “I don’t want your company.”

“Ah, but you aren’t disagreeing,” he noted smugly, “let me walk you home, at least. Where’s home?”

Zoya huffed, turning away from him and walking determinedly faster. His ridiculously long legs meant he caught up to her easily. Zoya gave him a sidelong glance.

“Nowhere,” she snapped. Then a thought occurred to her. Maybe tonight wasn’t ruined just yet, “and you?”

“Anywhere.” he said with an infuriating grin.

_ There goes that. _ He was just as broke as her, only far more optimistic about it.

She shook her head, not glancing his way again, just walking forward, faster. Away. 

_ A life without running. _ Not today.

When she finally looked to her right a few minutes of determined silence later, Nikolai was gone.

Zoya frowned, glancing behind her to find he had stopped a few steps behind, something like dread washing over his face, oblivious to the rain now pattering against his fresh suit. 

She considered leaving him alone with whatever horrifying thoughts his mind chose to torture him with, but something made her stop.

“Scared of a little rain, Lantsov?”

Maybe it was the use of his name, but he looked at her, eyes haunted. 

“Shall we take a different turn?” he asked, forcing a smile over his face, his eyes darting to a spot just behind her as he spoke.

Zoya followed his look to find a large gated house, not unlike the Duke’s mansion they’d left, perhaps a bit smaller. She scanned it for some sort of threat that might warrant such a response from him. A single window was lit, curtains shut, the barest sliver of a person’s face showing. Zoya narrowed her eyes, frowning. A woman. She appeared to be in her late forties, the scowl on her face tugging her loose skin enough to seem older.

Zoya turned to look at Lantsov, an amused smile playing across her lips, “care to explain?”

“It’s rather a dull story,” he said, wincing, “involving a car, a widow, and a missed wedding, so really we should be on our way now.”

Zoya thought no story involving those three elements could ever be certified as dull, but she bit back a grin, and said, “where else would we go?”

_ Maybe he’s right, maybe I don't want to be alone _ .

Whatever terror had been across Lantsov’s face vanished in a second and his eyes lit up, “I know just the place.”

* * *

The only flaw Nikolai Lantsov admitted to having, was lack of foresight. 

He had not anticipated that the night would end with a pain he did not wish to identify gripping his heart, and a girl with a dagger in a tent-covered tennis court. 

The young lady in question was glaring at the rain they’d escaped from, now harshly pattering against the tent, arms decidedly crossed over her chest. 

It took Nikolai a moment to realize she was shivering from the cold.

“This place has been abandoned for weeks, we should be alright here for some time.” he reassured her, not quite sure if the guard would make good on his threat or leave them be.

Not them,  _ her _ . He had no attachment with her. He could stay in the city longer if he liked.

She nodded and Nikolai came to stand beside her, slipping out of his jacket and moving to drape it over her shoulders. She jerked back, looking at him with wide blue eyes.

“What are you doing?” she asked, eyeing him warily.

Nikolai chuckled lightly, “you’re going to freeze-” what had the guard said her name was? “ _ -Nazyanelnsky _ . I doubt dying from hypothermia is going to clear your record.”

She huffed, but took a step closer, allowing him to drape the material over her shoulders. Her hair and dress were thoroughly soaked through, and she tugged the material closer around herself. Another thing Nikolai noticed- and this was rather difficult not to- was just how beautiful the girl was. It had stopped him short when her eyes had first met his, unyieldingly blue and more threatening than the blade she’d held to his throat, but now he was close enough to see how the water freed her curls, letting the dark locks frame her face. 

Too close, probably. 

He took a step back, averting his eyes. “What will you do now?”

She shrugged, gazing at something behind him and frowning, “leave, probably. There’s nothing left for me here, anyway.”

He nodded, understanding. He’d left plenty of places for the same reason, hadn’t he? If he dared to stay too long, he might do something ridiculous like grow attached to someplace. Or someone.

Nikolai couldn’t afford that. And neither, he suspected, could Nazyalensky.

_ You’ll come running back to us, boy, just you watch _ . He forced his father’s voice out of his mind and cleared his throat. The rain was beating rhythmically against the tent but there seemed to be a second, underlying sound. He frowned.

“Is that-”

“Music, yes.” Nazyalensky cocked her head, thoughtful. “I suppose that’ll be there doom one day, locked in a grand mansion, flooding the halls with music and champagne until all their problems seem to disappear.”

“ _ The external world could take care of itself, _ ” Nikolai quoted, a smile twitching at his lips. 

He offered a hand as the rain melded with the music, creating a sound that was almost sad, but not quite.  _ Possibility _ , he thought.  _ It sounds like hope. _

“Dance?” he asked. Nazyalensky raised a brow.

For a moment, it seemed she might ignore his offer, reintroduce him to the blade she carried, but then her cold fingers slipped into his and she said, “dancing is a dangerous game.”

Nikolai grinned despite himself, pulling her closer. Somehow all his troubles seemed to melt away, his focus entirely taken by her proximity, which was doing strange things to his heart.

For a few minutes, it felt entirely wrong to speak. They fell into a strange and comfortable silence, steps in sync, music forgotten. Nikolai could not have said if time was even present, or perhaps it chose to step aside and give them this space, he considered, taking a step back and twirling her. He had not seen her smile all day but the barest hint of a grin now pulled at her lips and Nikolai counted that as progress. 

“Do you bring all your ladies to dance beneath the rain, Lantsov?” her sharp blue eyes met his and it took him a second to process the question. Once he did, Nikolai laughed, pulling her close again as she locked her arms around his neck.

“Only the ones wanted by the police,” he replied.

“Am i meant to feel special?”

“That is entirely up to you,” he admitted, “though I am such delightful company, it must surely be an honor, no?”

She scoffed, “you aren’t even that good of a dancer,”

Nikolai raised a brow, “and yet you’re still dancing with me.”

Something seemed to click in her mind then, and Nikolai cursed every Saint that let him speak when she pulled away from his embrace, stepping back and eyeing him quizzically. 

Nikolai frowned, “is something the matter?”

She said nothing, and Nikolai noticed for the first time that their surroundings had quieted. The rain had stopped, and he had not even noticed. Saints, what was her company doing to him?

Nothing good. Nothing beneficial, anyway. He’d heard enough to know she had no title or any money to her name, and he’d revealed as much to her out of the sheer excitement of knowing he wasn’t alone.

He’d been such a fool.

A moment later, Nazyalensky fluffed her dark hair over her shoulder and pierced him with another sharp gaze, something more determined in her eyes now as she closed the space between them.

“I’m not going to thank you for helping me.” she informed him.

“I never asked for-”

But she didn’t let him finish, because suddenly her lips crashed against his and all thoughts abandoned Nikolai immediately. She tasted of rain and something else, something sour likely residu of the party they’d abandoned, and he pulled her closer, fingers tangling in her hair. His dizzy mind could hardly keep up with the feel of her against him as she locked her arms around his neck, lips parting under his. 

And all too soon, she pulled back, leaving them both breathing heavily. Nikolai must have looked as rattled as he felt because she smirked, tossed her hair back and then turned to leave.

To  _ leave _ .

His brain was too late to catch up to that fact and his mouth was too busy contemplating the burn of where her lips once were. Maybe that was why he used her first name.

“Zoya, wait-” he called, not quite sure what he wanted her to wait for. He’d kissed girls before, a number he couldn’t keep track of. Most of them pretty. All of them wealthy. 

But this time he hadn’t been kissing her for any reason other than he’d wanted to.

“I don’t suppose I’ll see you again?” he tried not to sound too hopeful. Her sharp eyes looked him over, and it occurred to Nikolai that she hadn’t stood to gain anything from it either. 

And there was definitely something in her eyes, something he might have translated as desire. Something open.

She gave him an elegant one-shouldered shrug, “if you’re lucky.”

And then she was gone. Though her presence lingered, following Nikolai into his dreams long after she departed. 

* * *

> _And the skeletons in both our closets_  
>  _Plotted hard to fuck this up_  
>  _And the old men that I've swindled_  
>  _Really did believe I was the one_  
>  _And the ladies lunching have their stories about_  
>  _When you passed through town_  
>  _But with that, it was all before I locked it down_
> 
> _Now you hang from my lips_  
>  _Like the Gardens of Babylon_  
>  _With your boots beneath my bed_  
>  _Forever is the sweetest con_

The harbor was bustling with activity. Men just returning from their business trips, sailors bidding their families farewell, a few lingering folks that made Zoya tighten her grip on her suitcase. 

She scanned the area for anyone in a guard's uniform, some sort of police, a person in power that could prevent her escape. 

Nothing. 

Still, she ducked her head as she walked, letting the hat she'd snatched from a vendor a few streets ago hide her face as she did. The one thing she could not afford was getting caught right now. 

_ You run and run and always end up alone _ , the voice in her head said pitifully. She shoved it away. Zoya was most certainly not alone. She had herself, the only companion that could never disappoint. 

Such thoughts were very distracting. She should have been paying more attention to the people around her, then she might have seen him coming. 

"Take a right," a voice whispered beside her, making her jump. 

Hazel eyes met hers, the same pair that appeared in her dreams. The same ones she had not seen for weeks. 

" _ Nikolai? _ " She hissed in surprise. She was somewhere between wanting to smack him and wanting to hug him. Both options were terribly frightening in their intensity. 

He shushed her, looking around in alarm. "There are at least four cops waiting on the ship you're meant to board, so very subtly take a right and go into the adjacent ship." 

Fear gripped her heart as her eyes found the ship she'd been heading for. The ticket provided courtesy of the gentleman manning the ticket booth, had been granted to her with no charge. Zoya had attributed that gift to the smile she'd sent his way, dipping her lashes, offering him some praise. But perhaps just this once, she'd been the one tricked. 

She cursed under her breath, earning a raised brow from Nikolai. "How do you know this?" 

"Walk with me, I'll explain," he said. Zoya scowled but obliged. 

Nikolai turned them towards a second ship, far less grand, but no doubt far safer.  _ One of these days, _ Zoya thought bitterly,  _ safety and luxury will come hand in hand _ . 

And perhaps then she'll find satisfaction. 

"Go on then," said Zoya, attempting to scan the ship for the threat they were abandoning whilst also keeping her head low. 

"You do recall the Duke's house, and his lovely guard that caught you?" 

"How could I forget such delightful company," she muttered, making a face. 

He laughed, "I figured as much. Well, I went back a few days later to bid a friend farewell. Before long I was surrounded by a group of finely dressed gentlemen just dying to meet my wife." 

Zoya stopped short, causing him to stop as well. "But I know people there, I was  _ invited!" _

He winced, "your name must have slipped their mind, then." 

She swallowed, "must have," she allowed. She'd been a fool to think Malyen Oretsev had been interested in her at all.  _ Grand waste of time, he was. _

"Not all is lost," Nikolai reassured her, placing a hand on her lower back to urge her forward, "you do still have my company." 

He punctuated the statement with a wink that made Zoya huff and roll her eyes. It seemed in a few weeks she'd already forgotten how insufferable the man was.  _ And how handsome _ , her mind filled in. 

She was growing rather annoyed with that voice.

The waded through the crowds of people, Nikolai muttering apologies as they bumped into a few passerby until the docks were before them and a bored looking sailor was asking for their tickets to board. 

_ Saints, the ticket- _

Nikolai slipped two papers out of his jacket pocket, handing them to the man with a practiced smile. 

They exchanged a few words and then she was on the ship and Zoya could breathe properly. She scanned the people on the ship- was that family giving her odd looks?- maybe she had become paranoid. She swallowed, trying to look as normal as possible. 

Nikolai gave her a worried look, so she must not have done a great job at it. 

"Zoya…" he began then hesitated and shook his head. She wondered what he'd been about to say. 

"It should take about a week to reach our destination, you can make yourselves comfortable in your assigned cabins below decks." A man was saying. He went on to details about food and safety but Zoya couldn't even hear him. 

Her eyes were on the sea. 

She'd never actually traveled by boat, never dared to leave the country that housed her only family- even dead. And yet there it was, shimmering under the light of the sun, endless waves beckoning her to some unknown future. 

She was at the rail before she became aware that she'd moved at all. She gripped it, furrowing her brows. She'd been running all her life, but now it felt like there might be some destination to look forward to. Even an unknown one. 

And still… 

"Nikolai, what are you doing here?" She asked quietly, watching as gulls dipped towards the water before soaring back up in the sky. A little boy tossed them a piece of his bread, cheering when one swooped forward to capture it. 

"I've always loved the sea," he said thoughtfully. But he knew she didn't mean that. 

"Bags packed, tickets ready. You knew I'd be here," she said. He didn't deny it, so she plowed on, "you could've sent a warning. Or just leave me to whatever fate awaited me." 

"I'd be more concerned about whoever was on the other end of that dagger you carry," he replied, voice a bit strained. 

That earned the slightest tilt from Zoya's mouth at the memory. 

"And yet you're here." 

She turned to face him finally. His hands were stuffed inside his pockets, face unreadable watching the water as land receded, becoming smaller and smaller as the ship pulled away. 

"And yet I'm here," he agreed. Then his hazel eyes were on her and Zoya sucked in a breath. How was it possible to hold so much depth within a person's eyes alone? How was it that just meeting his eyes could make her heart do strange flips in her chest? 

"I suppose I'm just tired of running alone," he said, giving her a half smile. "And maybe I wanted to test my luck, see if the pretty girl I met would mind if I stuck around for a bit." 

Zoya rolled her eyes, a smile lingering on her face, "I suppose two saves could earn you that much." 

"So you're admitting I saved you the first time?" 

"Ah yes," she said dryly, "my knight in shining armor." 

"Well I'm certainly attractive enough to be one."

"No proper knight should have such a large ego," she informed him. 

Her eyes slid back to the water and the place she was leaving. 

Years later, Zoya would wonder if either of them had been aware of the trick the universe had played on them. The one swindle neither of them had anticipated. The twist of fate that allowed them to be together.

The sweetest con.


End file.
